Incomprehensible Understanding
by ChiharuSato22
Summary: They are only beginning to understand each other. One is barely an adult, the other is a full grown man. In the midst of all this, secrets are revealed and loyalties need to be placed. In the end, the outcome will justify the method...won't it? AiGin
1. Chapter I: Almost

**Author's Note:**_ I write because it's fun. I like to write. It isn't because I'm some sick twisted soul who likes torturing people. __**My point?**__ My point _is_ that if you don't like this, then don't read it. I give fair warnings. If you do not heed them, the rest is not my responsibility. Now, without further ado, I present this awkwardly composed story. There are twenty-six chapters. I will state at the beginning whose perspective each is written from. I like jumping from perspective to perspective—it makes it more fun to write._

**Warning: This story may contain sexual implications/innuendos and the like—whatever is expected from any other fanfic. I will refrain from vulgarity as best I can but I will make no promises. There will be mild swearing. Lest you all forget, Gin isn't a perfect, little angel (in fact, there isn't even the tiniest semblance between the two). He grew up in Rukongai. Expect it of him. If you have read this and continue to read on, I take no responsibility for mental trauma/scarring. I will only warn you this once. This warning, however, is applicable to the entire story. **

**Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I do not own **_**Bleach**_** or the characters in it. I am not Tite Kubo. They belong to him, not me. I swear that I make no profit from this. Well, that is only if you don't count satisfying readers as profit. Let me specify, I receive no monetary profit from the production of this wayward story. I do not expect to, either. Applicable for each chapter. I don't like repeating myself so it will only be put this once. **

**Perspective: Aizen's**

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**Chapter I: Almost**

**Almost**

_**very nearly; all but**_

I, despite this being the Soul Society, could hear the early morning chirping of delicate robins. It was springtime again. It wasn't my favourite season, per se, but I liked it well enough. Already, I could see green grass peeking out from patches of snow that had started to melt. Really, even within the limits of the Seireitei, the Soul Society wasn't much unlike the human—"living"—world. It made me question how "dead" we really were—even as shinigami.

As I tore my blanket off, I could hear discontented grumbling from a weight on my stomach. The familiar weight shifted over, rolling off of me and into the blanket, clinging to it sorely. I knew it well as Gin.

"Gin," I whispered to him, my tone only half scolding him, "we have to get up, now. We have work." He made a noise similar to "Don't want to" and continued to cling to the blanket, pulling it over himself. "Gin," I pressed, attempting to pry the blanket away from him in a, more or less, futile fight, "Get out of bed this instant. We have work."

Though not entirely pleased with the notion, he let go of the blanket and sat up. He stretched lengthily, revealing his long, pale arms and legs in the process. Yawning, he stood up, straightened out his yukata, and went to the bathroom. I got out of bed and followed him. I didn't want him brushing his teeth while only half awake. That usually led to swallowing toothpaste and choking. That wasn't a pleasant thought.

* * *

He was fully dressed in his uniform—his shihakusho—and ready for duty. Still, though, there was an air of a child about him. It had taken so long to groom him properly into being my lieutenant—after Hirako had left (or rather, been forced to leave)—and I had discovered that I could never really get rid of his immaturity. Perhaps, though, that was one of his strengths and the reason Shinsou obeyed him.

"What're we going t'do now, Aizen-taichou?" he asked boredly. If his eyes hadn't been closed, I could have sworn that he rolled them at me.

Disregarding his blatant dislike of our daily tasks, I went on to explain what would happen and what we would do. There were only standard things—passing on messages, securing transfers, planning meetings, directing internship programs, and whatever else needed to be done in paperwork. That, give or take, was the "special" duty of the fifth squad. It was the same as Soi Fon's squad being the Special Forces. It was an absolutely dismal and demeaning duty but I understood that _someone_ needed to do it. I could also understand Gin's loathing of it, too. I couldn't say that I particularly enjoyed it myself.

"We have to do it, remember?" I reminded him, nudging him gently. He frowned at me but complied. The two of us exited my room together. It was odd for our squad to see the captain and lieutenant leaving a room, first thing in the morning, might I add, together but they didn't make a fuss about it. Not many would dare to suspect me of anything, really. I put on a nice facade. On the other hand, Gin...I wouldn't go there.

Everybody immediately jumped to their feet—even those who had been waiting, lounging on the railings. "Aizen-taichou! Ichimaru-fukutaichou!" they recited in unison, saluting us. I bowed. Gin smiled, bowing just as graciously. It didn't help any, though. I could see that everyone was scared of him—if not a lot, a little. They were smart to be afraid of him for he was something to be feared.

There were several new faces in our squad but none that I didn't know as academy students. I greeted each of them, only vaguely remembering each name and face. Gin, on the other hand, knew none of them. He merely walked alongside me. His memorization was as superb as I knew it to be and, the moment I uttered each student's name, he memorized it and its corresponding face. _How very like him..._ I remarked in my head. He didn't notice me taking note of this. His guard, however, was lowered none. In fact, today, it was raised so high that I seemed to be suffocating in it. Even with me, when he spoke, his voice was guarded. Something was bothering him. I made a mental note, telling myself to ask him later.

After our formal address, we left for our offices, never once stopping to even steal a glance at one another. Something was definitely ask. I took another mental note—I had to ask him soon.

* * *

"Soon" and "later" became "now". It wasn't because his stand-offishness was increasing (which it was) but, rather, time had passed. Unexpectedly, though, he was the one who came and approached me about his little "problem".

In the middle of work, he suddenly spoke out. "Aizen-taichou,"

"Yes?"

He stiffened, even his tone was stiff. "Could ya join me for lunch t'day?"

I nodded in affirmaton and he nodded back in silent approval. That was all that we said, getting back to work.

* * *

Lunch came around the corner. No, I shouldn't say it like that. Lunch _crept around the corner_ at a _miserably slow rate_, all the while _taunting me_ with the hands of time. In other words, it had been about as exciting as watching grass grow. Unless you're some sort of grass enthusiast, which I'm not, that would be considered extremely _boring_. Of course, when lunch came around, so did relief. It washed over me like a fresh bath. That was a good thing. I really felt like I needed one, right about now. It was more important for me to listen to Gin, though. So, I braced myself for a "talk".

There was no "talk", though. Instead, the moment the bell in our squad went for lunch, all he did was stand up. I held my breath, then, anticipating something. I anticipated wrong, though. Nothing came—nothing happened. Instead, he just tackled me—tackled me to the ground. He was holding onto my cloak for his dear life. Then, I noticed them—them being his irrepressible tears. He was sobbing into my chest. Confused and not completely understanding, all I could do was pat his head and murmur soothing nothings to him. It made me wonder how much I really understood of Gin and how much was just another mask. This boy of mine was really something else, that was for sure.

After much comforting and much crying (on his part), he finally managed to calm down. He had stifled the sobs into simple hiccups. I finally dared to ask him what was wrong. Earlier, I was afraid he would break into a fit of hysteria in the middle of his explanation. I expected a long explanation, too. Once again, I expected wrong.

He pulled one leg of his hakama up—his left leg—to reveal his own skin. What I saw made me gag. There was a large, revolting gash running up from his calf to is inner thigh which was as far as I could see. I doubt it went any further, though. It wasn't glossy-looking like a scar. No, it looked fresh—it looked as though it was just beginning to scab over, too.

"What happened?" I asked cautiously.

He did break into hysterics—just a little bit. It was justifiable, though. "I-I," he stuttered, tears streaming down his face while his eyes were wide open and dilated, "I did this to myself." he finally managed to sputter out. For a moment, time froze. I didn't need him to repeat himself, though. I knew exactly what I had heard. He continued and I listened. "I don't know what I was thinking," he stuttered, "I-I think I'm going crazy. It was bleeding like crazy." At this point, he was mumbling to himself, "A-And it felt n-nice—I don't know." he wailed, throwing himself on me again. I caught him just in time. Thankfully, I was already on the floor so we couldn't fall down any further.

I considered briefly whether or not I should reprimand him—scold him. I decided not to. It wasn't the time or the place to do such things, too. Now was the time for reassurance and comfort. I tried my best to give it to him.

"It's just a stage in life." I told him even though it felt as though I was lying, "You're fine." He nodded dumbly, unable to speak any further. I pulled his head to my chest and, with a sigh, told him to sleep. Forcibly, I put a kido spell on him to _make_ him sleep, too.

I carried him out of the office and to our rooms. A few shinigami had seen us but none questioned. I figured I would have to find someone to fill in for both of our paperwork. No one would like that. Still, right now, my time was for Gin.

My boy was so strong and still growing. Sometimes, though, I got a little ahead of myself and forgot that he was just a child. And, at this stage of life, he needed to be nurtured. I decided that I would have to be the one to do that.

He was so close and all he needed was a push or some sort of boost. He was almost there—_almost_.

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**Author's Note:**_ The way I wrote this, it seems to be in the middle of a story. That, more or less, seems to be the case. I'll write what I'll write. This story may not be updated for...a long, long time. Inspiration comes in bursts, not a steady stream. Well, it does for me, anyway. I will write when there is something good to write about. Now, for other matters...this story will have twenty-six chapters. That's the number of letters in the alphabet. One letter for each chapter—each letter will have a word. I already chose my words prior to the story so it'll be interesting to see how this turns out. It isn't going to be a series of one-shots like my original idea. No, I decided that, if I was going to write twenty-six things, I might as well make one story. Another reason for slow updates is because _Mon Espoir_ (oh boy, self-advertising) is my priority, at the moment. Besides, the way it is shaping up, this story will be done long before _Mon Espoir_ is so...yeah. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. Until next time. :)_


	2. Chapter II: Broken

**Author's Note:** _Oh boy...here's the second chapter. Poor, poor Gin...I haven't really much to say here. Actually, I don't have anything particularly important to say at all. So, just...read it. Try to enjoy it as best you can. I am aware of my trouble writing AiGin. I'm just not twisted enough. So...wish me luck. I'm horrible at this. Feedback is appreciated. Okay, I'll let you go now. _

**Perspective: Gin's**

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**Chapter II: Broken**

**Broken**

_**reduced to fragments; fragmented; ruptured; torn; fractured**_

When I woke up, I found myself in Aizen-sama's bed. The first thing that came to mind was how soft his bedsheets were. Never had I found the time to truly appreciate his silken blankets so I reveled in them momentarily for effect. The second thought that came to mind was how I got here. It came in the form of a question. I only vaguely remembered Aizen-sama carrying me.

"Aizen-sama..." I managed as I exhaled. I couldn't find the strength to open my eyes more than a fraction so I hadn't the strength to sit up. I found him to be beside me.

He turned to me, asking, "What's wrong?" His glasses were on, I noticed. It must have been morning, then. Oh, there was sunlight behind him, too. It must have been day. I didn't answer him. I didn't have the strength to beckon him closer with even my finger nor the strength to tell him to come. Instead, I lay on the bed in silence. He got the message and neared me. "_Is_ something wrong?" he asked me. I didn't shake my head but I didn't nod, either. "That's a 'yes', I take it."

Aizen-sama knew me. I didn't have to say "yes".

He frowned, leaning over me. Slowly, he lowered himself, pressing his forehead to mine. "You're feverish." he stated. The still-visible frown on his face told me that he was displeased. "I'll get you medicine. Stay put, Gin." Where did he think I would go? More precisely, I _couldn't_ go _anywhere_ —I barely had the energy to speak.

I didn't ask, though. I couldn't. He stood up, straightened his haori, and left the room. I could hear him rummaging around the kitchen. It was where the medicine cabinet was, too.

It had been about five minutes (or, it felt like five minutes) before he came back with a container of pills in his hand. He gave me two.

I looked blankly at them then to him. He hadn't brought water. Did he expect me to swallow the pills dry? Of course, that did sound like Aizen-sama. Still, though...it was more a matter of practicality. He seemed to notice the blank look in my eyes.

"Right, water..." he muttered, standing up and heading back into the kitchen. It was strange of Aizen-sama to forget things—_anything_, really. I managed a small, amused smile. Only the walls of Aizen-sama's room saw that smile of mine. Aizen-sama...

_You treat me so well...I am so thankful._ The thought crossed my mind before I felt my cheeks tingle. When was the last time that I had blushed this deep of a red? I could _feel_ the heat rise up into my face.

I heart Aizen-sama's voice returning into the room. He set the glass of water next to me. I picked it up with the little energy I had and then took two pills from his open hands. I popped the pills into my mouth and then took a quick sip of the water.

"You look feverish, Gin." Aizen-sama pointed out. Oh, that was right—my face was _still_ red. The heat had receded none. If anything, it had increased ten-fold.

He leaned forward, pressing the palm of his hand to my forehead. After holding it there for several seconds, he removed his hand. "You _are_ feverish, aren't you, Gin?" It was a rhetorical question. He sighed, shaking his head wearily at me.

I didn't answer. I just nuzzled deeper into his pillow.

"Get some rest," he commanded lightly, "I'll stay with you. I'll get the third and fourth seat to take care of our paperwork."

I knew that I _must_ have been feverish, then—that, or the medicine was beginning to kick in and make me drowsy. Aizen-sama never cared about me. Why would he start now? Oh well, it didn't matter. What mattered was that I needed sleep.

* * *

When I woke up, I was more than surprised to find Aizen-sama still beside me. I had enough energy sit up, this time. I was thankful for that much. I was just opening my mouth to speak, too, when I noticed that Aizen-sama was, quite obviously, asleep. How long had I slept? How long had he stayed here beside me?

I looked at him, my eyes tracing the contour of his figure as I looked him upand down. His rich, brown hair was slightly tousled in his slumber and his eyes that were normally open, sharp, and alert were now closed. His glasses were taken off and folded in his lap. I could hear his gentle breathing cutting through the silence in the room. It was soothing.

_You're so vulnerable, right now, Aizen-sama._ I thought to myself, _If I truly wished to, I think I could prob'ly kill y'right here 'n now..._ I cut the thought short. Soon enough, Aizen-sama stirred.

"You can't kill me, Gin." Of course, I had to expect that from him.

"I know, taichou." I replied, falling back to the comfort of his futon again. It was, really, much softer than mine.

He frowned, slipping on his glasses. "_Aizen-sama_, Gin." he corrected sharply. I could hear the distaste in his name. "Don't call me 'taichou'. It is merely a formality. When it is just the two of us, I am Aizen—Aizen-_sama_, to you—and you are Gin."

I nodded as vaguely as I could from my lying position. "I know, Aizen-sama. Sorry, it jus' slipped out."

He shrugged but said nothing.

I hated these moments—these moments where nothing could be heard. Aizen-sama was brooding during these moments and, as for me, I was left to wonder what he was thinking about. I couldn't tell the difference between when he thought serious thoughts and when he thought trivial thoughts. Of course, Aizen-sama was like that.

The silence didn't leave us. If anything at all, it only pervaded and then spread like an infectious disease. I was choking on that infectious disease—choking on the silence. It was suffocating. I hated not being able to speak.

It could have been seconds or minutes or even hours that we had sat there, speechless. I couldn't tell, now. Time had either slowed to a halt or nothing had changed in the past...however long it had been. I went for the latter. I couldn't focus, though. My mind didn't feel as sharp as it usually did. How frustrating this was.

"Gin," I could hear Aizen-sama speaking. His voice was so completely and utterly enthralling. I nearly purred happily. He was speaking to me—he had said my name, even.

"Yes?" I asked softly. I was honestly, truly, and earnestly hoping for something good—good news, perhaps.

He shook his head, then, his brown hair swaying from side-to-side with the movement of his head. "Never mind, Gin." He inhaled here and exhaled again in a sigh, repeating, "Never mind." This annoyed me. I hated it when he wasn't being himself. I hated it when he was beating around the bush. I hated it when he hid things from me.

"Tell," I pressed forcefully. I noticed that I had gotten up into a sitting position rather than lying flat on my back. "Tell me." He didn't answer me, though. What was with him? This wasn't like him at all—Aizen-sama was _never_ unsure of himself; _ever_. It was one of his traits that both unnerved me and reassured me. "Aizen-sama!" I growled, jumping to my feet and grabbing him by his haori. He still did nothing.

Before I could react, though, he grabbed my throat and violently shoved me up against the wall. I gagged, choking. He still didn't say a word, though. He just stood there, his eyes dark with rage. He was motionless, but I could feel the his heavy reiatsu weighing down on me—_smothering_ me—and I began to tremble. After a few seconds, I was rapidly losing breath and I began to tear recklessly at the hand holding me up by my throat.

We remained like that for a few more second before he released me. I dropped to the ground immediately, gasping and coughing as I tried to fill my lungs with air again. That was so stupid of me. I really needed to learn my place—_especially_ with him. He rarely made exceptions to his rules when he was truly being "himself"—_no one_ was to challenge his authority—even for me. That was a foolish move, on my behalf.

I would have apologized, too, had I not known it would have only enraged him more. I wasn't exactly suicidal, now. I simply lay there, quaking. His reiatsu had thinned out none and it was still unbearably suffocating. I had to remember what he was capable of. Whatever had been oon his mind, it must have been important and _significant_. I shouldn't have bothered him about it. When would I learn? Even I, being his vice captain, was no exception to his wrath.

His reiatsu was choking me. I could barely sustain my breathing, now. I wondered briefly why he never allowed even this much—for I knew that it wasn't the entirety of his reiatsu—be released in front of others (aside from Tousen, of course). It only was showed to me and Tousen—his "minions". That was right. We were never his equals—never to be. I could never forget that—_ever_. I needed to remember this. I was so..._stupid_.

He released me from the strain of his reiatsu shortly. I could breathe again. Once again, like earlier, I was gasping and wheezing—trying my hardest to inhale. He spared me no second glance and, instead, said, "Get up, Gin. This is pathetic." I hesitated—but only for a moment—before scrambling to my feet obediently. I hated it, sometimes, when Aizen-sama was like that—well, when he was like to _me_. I didn't like his false kindness, either, though. I liked him when he was contented but not being fake. Strange, huh?

Then, he turned around and looked at me. I could see the sharp glare in his brown eyes—no longer warm and soft as they had been earlier; _truly_ warm and soft. I missed that look, in moments like these. He just looked at me—staring _relentlessly_. It frightened me—it was a look of impending doom. I shivered quietly, feeling every hair on my body bristle under his gaze.

He interrupted quickly—shocking me even more awake than I thought possible. "Your wound," he barked sharply, "the one on your thigh—it's gone, now." I didn't look down to see that it was really gone. I could already feel that it was gone as I brushed my two legs against one another—I could no longer feel the roughness of where the scab had been and it didn't sting. I didn't thank him, though. He wouldn't have liked that. Without anything to do, I just stood there—silently.

Aizen-sama offered me a vague, wry smirk before turning and exiting the room without explanation or even a goodbye. I held back a sigh of relief.

I lay back down on his futon, curling up around the sheets I had pulled over me. I needed to sleep again.

I noted that he hadn't asked me why I had hurt myself. I realized, then, that he didn't need to know. For once, I would have a secret—a secret of why I was as broken as I was because he already knew _how_ broken I was.

* * *

**Author's Note:**_ For the most part, this was difficult to write—for me, anyway. Of course...Gin isn't the easiest character to write, is he? No, he isn't. Aizen isn't exactly easy, either. I love them _very_ much, though. They're such interesting fellas—very complicated ones, too. I wonder why Aizen was so mad, though. Poor, poor Gin... Well, until next time—see you all then! Thank you for reading! :)_


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